The Love of the Duda

TCSD 166: The Last Rest and the Little Girl in a Black Roar

The sky was soaring with gray clouds as the hordes of black-clothed men arrived at a field filled with gravestones. After a short stop at the Gods residence, now the body of the Oma Widuri arrived at his final resting place. The resting place that will be the gate to meet the husband who has first faced God.

Oma Widuri, the twilight woman who had such a kind heart to those around her, was now gone. One of the tough women who faithfully accompanied and supported what was pioneered by the husband to leave a success that can be enjoyed by his successor today.

Brave woman, who dares to oppose anything that deviates from her conscience. A woman who has a great sense of humor that makes anyone feel close to her. And the woman who never distinguishes in treating everyone around her. There was no impression left for the people who were near the Oma Widuri, other than how this woman was a very good woman.

Until nature speaks, if they are dissolved in the suffering. The sky showed a gloomy face as a sign if he felt what it was to lose.

Slowly, the brown soil covered the body of the Oma Widuri who was already inside this burrow. Until only leaving a mound of wet soil that will later become a place for relatives to visit and let go of longing for the woman.

One by one the people who crowded in this place disbanded after the funeral ceremony was over. Those who are mostly business associates of Dewa and also all staff and employees of PT WUW as if they do not want to miss the last day they can see the noble hearted woman.

The tears of Mara, Dewa, Vishnu, mbok Darmi, pak Kasim, Krishna and also Sekar still flowed profusely from their eyes. They were overwhelmed with grief, accepting the fact that the Oma Widuri had really left and would never return again.

Krisna who was previously in Jogja, due to getting a special task from the Gods, hasten chose to immediately return to this city. Surely to be able to see the face of the woman he had considered as his own grandmother who always treated him well. Even the way Oma Widuri treated him was the same as the way oma Widuri treated the Gods.

"Mas ... Oh, um..."

While carrying Nendra's body, Mara also spilled all her suffering on the final resting place of oma Widuri. From now on, the woman who had just held the title of young mama was incessantly crying, as one form of expression of a sense of loss that was so deep.

The god embraces the wife's shoulder and shrinks her head intensely. "Ikhlaskan oma ya Sayang .. oma must have calmed there. And surely oma was also already happy because she could get together with opa."

Despite being wracked by the sense of tightness that is so exciting, but God must strengthen his wife. Many times the Gods rubbed Mara's shoulders, to calm her down.

"But Oma has not had time to join Nendra, Mas. In fact, he always said that he wanted to pet Nendra before Nendra slept."

The pieces of conversation that had occurred between him and the oma Widuri again passed by in his brain which increasingly dragged him into the sadness.

"At least oma has seen Nendra's face, honey. It must make oma happy. You remember, no, how happy was oma when she saw Nendra for the first time?"

Mara just nodded faintly.

The drops of sky water started to descend slowly. Like a sign that soon this speck will melt until it becomes heavy rain.

"Let's all go home. It's gonna rain soon!"

God told us to invite all those who are still in this place to come back soon. Worry if it will rain and will certainly leave something bad in the body. Like getting a cold, the flu, or maybe a cheerful.

Mara, Krishna, Sekar, mbok Darmi and pak Kasim according to. They began to set foot to leave the cemetery. The god who had swung his footsteps, but he stopped his footsteps. He turned his body and looks Vishnu is still sitting on the navel of Orma Widuri.

Vishnu shook his head. "No Wa, I still want to be in this place to accompany oma."

"But Brother..."

"Go home first Wa. I still want to be here."

Gods could only throw rough breaths. In the end, he also gave up. Not wanting to force her brother. Slowly, his body moved away from Vishnu and followed his wife and others who were already in the parking area.

No need to wait for a long time, it rained heavily. Vishnu was still sitting on the mound of land belonging to oma Widuri. The man cried innocently spilling out all the feelings that were raging in his chest. But a feeling that feels so obvious. A sense of regret that still so shackles his heart and soul.

"I'm sorry Vishnu, Oma. Vishnu has missed the opportunity to be devoted to the oma at the end of this oma life. If only Vishnu had not left the oma, surely..."

Vishnu's voice was stuck in his throat. When he remembered the past, he felt even more deeply regret. There was nothing more that the man could say but just the melt of tears flowing down and accompanied by rainwater that soaked his body.

The flow of rain that embraced Vishnu's body, he immediately no longer felt. Vishnu gasped. The rain was still pouring down on this earth, yet he did not feel the caress of the sky water at all. The head that was previously lowered, a little he docked. And there was a little girl with ponytailed hair protecting her body with a black umbrella that she was carrying.

"Who are you?"

The girl just smiled. "Why is Uncle raining like this? Mother said, if we rain it can definitely make us sick."

Vishnu was getting flabbergasted. This black-robed little girl did not immediately answer her question but instead said something else. "You who? And why are you in this place? Where's your house?"

"Uncle wants to know who I am?"

Vishnu just nodded faintly. "Yes, I want to know who you are!"

"Uncle pray yes, may aunt Rasti make a story for Uncle. So Uncle will know who I am. Because Uncle is also a widower. It doesn't seem too off-putting if uncle's story is the second season of this novel." The seven-year-old girl turned to the writer. "Is that so, Auntie? Aunty will make a story for Vishnu's uncle, right?"

The author, who heard the conversation of two people from different generations, could only massage his temple. "Wes, angel iki angel....."

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Inshaallah stay a few more parts Demara will be finished yes Kak... hihihihihihi hihihi 😘😘😘 Thank you very much for the readers who are still faithful to read the writing of this kuaci skin crumb...____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________